I rode the bicycle back home after we dispersed at the night market, for some reason, the blonde was still in my head. I rode slowly, enjoying the peaceful calls of cicadas. Home was hell to me, my parents treated me like crap and treated my older (by 5years) brother like he was a king. I even once suspected that I was adopted. Everytime I went home, my parents show no acknowledge, whereas when my brother is home, they stop what they are doing and rush to greet him, taking his bag and putting it in his room for him, like they are his servants. 

I walked, pulling my bycycle towards the front door of our semi-detached. I pressed the door bell and waited for the gates to open. They never did. I frowned and took a look at the watch. 9.13pm. Surely they don't sleep so early? I pressed th doorbell, frantically glancing around, our house was in the darkest part of the place, with trees next to it. Being here at night was creepy. And the eerie silence was only making me feel even more scared. "ghosts do not exist, ghost do not exist...." I chanted to myself. "Klang!!!" A sound resounded through the air, even though the sound sounded far away, my heartbeat quickened. I pressed the doorbell again, and again. 

Finally, the gates moved. Relieved, I stumbled into the safe garden of my home. "What's wrong with you? Saw a ghost, ?" my brother blurted out from his seat at the sofa. I ignored him and stomped up to my room and fell asleep on the bed without even bothering to take a shower. Who would care anyway?